


The Tumblr Archive

by Synchron



Series: The Tumblr Archive [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Ball Sucking, Come Swallowing, Comfort, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Fondling, Gen, Hand Jobs, Riding, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Shibari, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, since they're all pretty short none of these are editted, will be posting all future updates as their own one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 43
Words: 18,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synchron/pseuds/Synchron
Summary: Just a place for me to put the longer, more fleshed out answers to the asks I get on tumblr. This is also where I'll be putting all drabble/ficlet prompt replies I get.Everything in here is short and unedited; usually typed straight into tumblr before I hit post, so please excuse any errors slkfj
Relationships: Credo (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Series: The Tumblr Archive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157300
Comments: 34
Kudos: 246





	1. Move, Baby (Vergil x Reader NSFW)

**Author's Note:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> I’m commuting right now and all I have in mind is Vergil saying “Move, baby” while I’m riding him 🚶♀️ Really want him to call me his baby

Aside from the slow rocking of your hips as you lowered yourself over his cock, gently wedging him inside you as far and as deep as you can take him, you’re surprisingly still. Even when your swollen clit comes into contact with his pelvis. Even when his hands settle over your hips, his long fingers digging into your skin… Even when you can feel his arms flex as he teases you with a gentle forward pull of your hips. You just continue to smile at him. It’s one that holds a sweet promise, provided he has the patience to wait for it.

“Enjoying the view?” His coy smile is just as evident in his tone of voice.

“I could ask you the same.” Is your reply, steeped in equal levels of mirth.

Vergil hums, and his hands leave your hips. The heat of you surrounding him is maddening - he knows how to make you wet for him, but the tightness of your cunt is but one of _many_ gifts you bestow upon his senses ~~and fingers and tongue~~. He smooths both hands up your sides, palms following your every curve. One slides around to support your back, but the other teases at cupping your breast, his thumb remains just shy of brushing your pebbled nipple.

His eyes meet with your briefly, where they flash suddenly with a glint of silver, and suddenly he’s pulling you toward him. You can’t help the pleasured squeak that falls from your lips, the movement stirring his throbbing cock inside you, grinding more of your clit against his hot skin. His lips hover by your ear, whispering in a sultry cadence that never fails to make you shiver regardless of the tempest in your veins.

“Move, baby.”

He feels you contract around him at the term of endearment, and he angles his head to press a kiss to your throat. Breathing out a half moan, half sigh, your hips begin to move.


	2. Vergil growling (Vergil x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Help I can't stop thinking about vergil growling in my ear while riding him 😧

You gently hush Vergil with a finger pressed to his lips, following with your own shortly after, sealing and swallowing down any further noises he makes. He huffs impatiently against you, and you feel his hands graze your sides as if asking permission to touch.

You don’t grant it to him.

“You promised.” You remind him, tone playfully chiding. “One whole night. No touching.”  
  
A faint buzz charges the air, crackling with an unseen energy. It emanates from Vergil’s very being, emphasised by a primal growl that rumbles from deep within his throat. It should frighten you, by all accounts, it should, but feeling it resonate so closely to your body, it has the opposite effect, making you roll your hips into his, driving his cock even further inside your core. You hear a squeaking protest of leather - Vergil’s gripping the couch cushions on either side of you with enough force that he almost tears through the material, and the only reason he stays his hand is because he refuses to explain to Dante why the couch has been torn to shreds.

Your hands skim up to his shoulders, using them to anchor yourself as you ride him. It begins slowly, a gentle tide, where you eke out the beginnings of a steady rhythm of skin on skin. The closeness is driving you mad - the proximity makes the heat stifling, and the grind of his pelvis on your clit on each downward thrust has you sinking your teeth into the tight skin of his neck.

Another snarl is pulled from his chest, the couch leather creaks and groans, and the air churns again. But you pay all of that no mind, focusing your efforts on bouncing yourself on his cock. Your thighs are beginning to burn from the exertion, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross after you’ve had your fun with him.

Vergil angles his head toward you, pressing his lips to your temple. It’s the only form of contact with you he’s allowed to have, and so he holds that position, even as your hips grind down upon him at a feverish pace, one that makes his head spin if he closes his eyes for too long. He grunts something at you, sucks in a ragged breath, growls out a sound that could almost be your name.

When he cums, the leather finally tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that if you'd like, you can follow me on tumblr **[right here!!](https://synchronmurmurs.tumblr.com/)**


	3. A Drop In The Ocean (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe the following ask was inspired by a post I made at some point that talked about how I HC Vergil with an aversion for blood in general - he hates the smell of it, and prefers all his meats cooked well done as a result. He likely handles it better over time, but for maybe half a year after the Qliphoth, this boy sticks to white meat. And he can't really hang around while it's cooking either. Anywho, I just wanted to give you a bit of context before I pasted the ask:
>
>> Vergil can’t stand to rest his head against his s/o’s chest because he can hear their heart. He WANTS to be held and to snuggle up to them and lay against their chest, he tries ignore the sound but whenever he’s not completely focused on not hearing it it starts to effect him

“Focus on my breathing,” you tell him, the very first sound other than the sickening pulse he’s heard all night. He didn’t know you were still awake. Or is it that he had woken you by daring to press his head to your chest, to, for once, bask in the comfort of an embrace? Ah, maybe he isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is.

Vergil doesn’t answer you, but you know it’s because he’s embarrassed at having being caught. And so before he can withdraw back into the darkness, back to his side of the bed, you slip your arms around him, hold him to you, and try again.

“Don’t listen to my heart. Listen to my breathing. Feel the motion of it. Like being out on the ocean.” Your fingers idly card through his hair as you talk, voice oddly clear despite the fact you were only recently woken by your partner. Your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, establishing a steady rhythm to drown out the drone of your pulse. “It’s an ebb and flow. Gentle waves. Can you feel the wind in your hair?”  
  
You emphasise your question by sweeping your whole hand back through his hair, fingertips gently grazing his scalp as you go.

Bit by bit, the tension seeps from Vergil’s body - you feel it disperse under your arms and your hands. Eventually, his arms find their way around you too, pressing himself tighter against you, falling deeper into the ocean of your love.

Like that, gently bobbing out on the gentle waters, he eventually finds sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that if you'd like, you can follow me on tumblr **[right here!!](https://synchronmurmurs.tumblr.com/)**


	4. The Gud Succ (Vergil x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> real flashback hours: giving Vergil's balls the gud succ

The sensation is notably different to the feel of your lips around the head of his cock, or the slow twist of your palm against his shaft. It’s… further down is all he can currently describe it as, tickling his perineum in a way he’s not quite used to but Vergil is far from against feeling you suck one of his heavy balls into your mouth. Your hand continues to pump him all the while, slowly, but vigorously, reaching all the way to the tip to collect another stream of precum between your fingers to lubricate the downward stroke as you suck and lick at the salty, velvety skin of his sac. You’ve always loved having his hard cock in your mouth, love it when he grips a handful of your hair to manoeuvre you to his liking - usually to fuck your face in earnest before he cums hot salty strings down your throat - but his little gasps and short thrusts that urge his hips closer to your face have your core tingling with an excitement, an arousal, that has you all but helpless to the desire to slip your own hand between your legs.

“The other–” His voice is breathless, but no less commanding, no less full of the assurance that he is the one still calling the shots even though his cheeks are tinged a healthy pink and his temple drips with sweat. Even though his throbbing cock is in your hand, and you have one his balls in your mouth, he can smell, even from here, the dizzying aroma of you, can notice the particular circular motion of your shoulder as you stroke yourself. Yes, he thinks, he’s in charge here. And all the more when you obey, laving your tongue over the rough skin of his testicle one last time before you angle your head the opposite direction to focus your attention on the other.

You give it a precautionary kiss first, then the hand you were using to touch yourself comes back up, glistening with your arousal, to gently force his thighs further apart to give you more room. Nails dig crescents into the skin of his thigh, not sharp, nor hard enough to breach skin, but certainly with enough force that Vergil hisses above you. Hushing him gently, and perhaps giving his thigh an apologetic squeeze, you lower your head again, moaning softly as you relish in his musky scent and pepper the neglected testicle with open mouthed kisses and slow, broad licks with the flat of your tongue. Above you, Vergil’s head falls back against the couch, steely eyes sliding closed, and a strained voice humming his content.

He’s close.

You know, not by the sound of his voice, or the way his breathing’s rhythm becomes erratic, but by his pulse. The one you can feel underneath your fingers, still dutifully wrapped around his cock. It beats and pounds to the rhythm of your sin, the tone of your muffled mewls, the sound of your lips against his skin. Although your hand is pumping his length with slick, wet noises, you didn’t think he’d be able to cum from these mere actions alone. But well, it’s something for you to keep in mind in the future. For now, you guide his testicle into your mouth with the tip of your tongue, head pulling back ever so slightly to tug and stretch the sac, letting it slowly pull free from the hot cavern of your mouth with a pop. And accompanied by one final twist of your hand squeezing down on his shaft, Vergil comes undone with a low groan and a murmur of your name.

With a desperate (and a touch disappointed) whine, you move quickly, falling back onto your haunches to let your lover paint your face in thick ropes of cream. Your mouth goes slack, falling open with another helpless mewl, tongue rolling past your lips to catch whatever you are fortunate enough to have land in heavy droplets onto your eager tongue.

When Vergil’s hips stop stuttering, his breathing finally evens, and the static rolling around in his head begins to fade, he lifts his head up to look down at you with eyes that are still foggy and unclear. You’re still between his legs, cheeks flushed and gathering one long string of his cum on your thumb which you then slide into your mouth to clean off with another shameless whimper. Your eyes, half lidded and still burning with desire, never leave his even as you slowly, tantalisingly, pull your thumb from between your lips, visibly swallowing the gift he’d left you all over your face before going back for more.

 _What a helpless slut you are_ , the both of you think to yourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that if you'd like, you can follow me on tumblr **[right here!!](https://synchronmurmurs.tumblr.com/)**


	5. Magic Wand (Dante x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are getting longer... dfklj
>
>> (hhh i'm too ashamed of this horny thought to send it not anon so here you go) Rubbing a Hitatchi Vibe Wand on Dante's balls, just teaassing him until he cums multiple times. Poor guy's just whining and bucking his hips, but he's held by cuffs and the promise of a reward for being a good boy when he recovers. Oh that rewards gonna be so sweet when he recovers, he might Trigger during it.

Dante is normally not a man of subtlety by any means. Wild and brazen are his usual go-to’s when it comes to how he operates (Vergil once described him to be not unlike a peacock, always strutting about with something to prove), but lying back on your bed, arms and legs bound to each of the corners of your bed’s wooden frame, he’s learning very quickly the definition of the word restraint. They’re just normal silken ropes, plain in both colour and origin, and thus something he could snap free of in the blink of an eye, but it’s the memory of that unspoken promise in your eye that stills his hands, and makes his toes curl out of something he thinks is frustration. It’s hard to tell when the weight of your smaller body is on his waist, facing away from him to survey the masterpiece you’ve constructed between his legs.

It’s a delicate balance of ropes pulled taut and strategically placed knots, all suspended between his thighs. They wrap tightly around the length of your Hitachi wand, angling it perfectly so that the rounded head sits comfortably snug against his balls. The devious little toy’s been switched on the entire time you’ve been fiddling with your array, and the entire time, Dante’s been leaking a clear stream of precum from the cute little slit at the tip of his ruddy cock.

“Babe, is this really necessary?” His voice is breathless and airy, but more because his question to you is laughed out. Beneath you, where you idly grind yourself on his skin, you feel his muscle tense, can visibly _see_ the cords in his thighs stretch as he tries to shift his weight on the bed to dislodge the wand from his cock. But to no avail. The constant thrum that tingles his perineum shoots all the way up to the very tip of his length, which you’ve now half bent down to wrap your lips around, gently suckling at the salty taste of him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum– babe, I’m gonna–” he sucks in a sharp breath when he feels you wrap your hand around his cock to gently coax out his first load for the evening. “Oh _fuck_ that’s good– Yessss… swallow it all–”

Hearing his praises, hearing _him_ at all is addicting in its own right - so different to watching his brow crease, or how he sometimes bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. No, Dante’s voice has a very special little place in your memory. After all, who’d have thought your relationship would have blossomed after you caught him jacking it and moaning your name all the while? It’s far from any picturesque confession at sunset down by the docks (or whatever it is people do these days), but it’s something you look back on rather fondly. Especially on long, lonely nights.

But tonight is not such.

No, tonight, Dante has agreed to let you do _w h a t e v e r_ you want to him. When you pull your lips off the thick, blunt head of his cock, you hear Dante sigh before his hips fall back onto the bed, his thighs following suit. Casting him a rather coy look over your shoulder, you swipe at your lips with your thumb, gathering the last of his cum from the corner of your mouth.

“Was that good, baby?” You coo, eyes twinkling despite the lowlight.

Dante’s cool blues catch yours, and even though he’d just shot a rather impressive load right into your waiting mouth, he’s no worse for wear. He’s not even out of breath. “Fuck yes. It’s not over already, is it?”

“Not on your life,” you reply smoothly, turning back around to tinker with the wand. Dante hears a quiet click of a button, and the buzzing at his balls intensifies. He almost jolts right off the bed, but remembers your silent promise at the last second, settling instead for a full bodied twitch. The vibrations from the wand reach the very tips of his toes now, which he curls until he thinks his calves are going to cramp. You swing your thigh up and over his body, turning until you’re facing him. Dante watches you flatten yourself against him, back curved and ass high in the air. His eyes are on your lips as they approach, parting just before they reach his to let your tongue slip past. He mirrors your actions, your tongues entwining before your lips have even fully met, and in accompaniment to your natural sweet taste, Dante can taste the remnants of his own bitterness, and he finds himself moaning right into your open mouth. And then again when he feels your hand card through his hair… before grabbing a fistful of it to yank his head back. The playful glimmer in your eyes is gone now, replaced by something a but darker that makes his cock spring up a little higher.

“You’re going to cum as many times as that little magic wand makes you, baby. And after that, I might let you finish inside me.” Your head tilts, lips pulling into a thin smile. “Do you think you can manage that?”

Embers of a deep red begin to burn somewhere deep in his eyes, flickering outwards from his pupils, now blown wide. It’s for just a moment, but the air hums with an energy that even _you_ can feel, and in the blink of an eye, both it, and the menacing intensity of his eyes are gone.

“I’ve never disappointed you before, have I?”


	6. Gymnophoria (Punchy x Vergil SFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following handful of chapters are prompts sent in to me as warm up drabbles. 🙏

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Punchy/Vergil Gymnophoria (◡‿◡✿)

## Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.

* * *

He’s only glimpsed bits and pieces of it; that serpentine tattoo that drapes across the breadth of her shoulders. He doesn’t know why it’s so curious to him, or why he catches himself thinking about peeling that ridiculously gaudy jacket from her body, rolling it down her shoulders inch by inch to reveal those inky black lines. Would she shiver if he lightly touched it? If he merely ghosted the very tips of his fingers over her skin? To trace the coiling vipers that convene at her nape?

“What the fuck’re _you_ looking at?”

Her voice, deep and snarly, dispels the illusion, and the look she’s throwing him over her shoulder is just as menacing.

“An ill-mannered barbarian, clearly.” He answers with no hesitance, nor reluctance.

Zipping her jacket up the rest of the way, she snorts.


	7. Gymnophoria (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Gymnophoria. Medley (it's been a while) or whichever you prefer.
> 
> Set within the same universe as my Medley series.

## Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.

* * *

  
Despite Dante’s near constant quips about how dense he is (at least in regards to you), Vergil’s intuition tells him there’s something more in the way you’re looking at him. Something that tingles and leaves a trail of fire on his skin. It lingers even long after he catches you staring.

But it always comes back.

It’s his first summer since he returned from hell with Dante, and though he isn’t fond of the suffocating humidity in the office, he finds he doesn’t mind the flames that your eyes carve down his bared arms, or over his back… and even down his legs.

He should take his coat off more often.


	8. Basorexia (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Basorexia: Vergil x reader but they are not together and Vergil dont know if she likes him or not

## Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.

* * *

Vergil has long since tuned out any and all words falling from your lips. It isn’t like it’s depicted in movies, or in those god awful harlequin novels. He doesn’t hear any music, and there are no birds making any inexplicable appearances in the office (but perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise). It’s mostly just silent, save for a beating heart. It’s resonant. Thunderous. Sonorous. It gets louder the longer he watches your lips move as you read. They’re shaped so perfectly, wrapping around words that he can’t hear.

 _Kiss her_ , a ridiculous, yet gratingly familiar voice says in his head. It reminds him of a bird he once knew. Wait… was it a bird? He can’t really remember.

But he can’t do that. Absolutely not. What would she think of him?

And yet he’s leaning forward anyway.


	9. Mamihlapinatapei (Vergil x Pact!Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Mamihlapinatapei, Liviere/Vergil 👀

## Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

* * *

  
You should have known things would come to this. No… that isn’t quite right. Dante had told you otherwise. And in a way, so did Nico. So you _did_ know that things would come to this, but you did this anyway. You both did.

Unlike it was close to half an hour ago, your apartment is silent now. Your sheets are still damp, twisted and curled around two bodies that are similarly still tangled up in one another. Vergil’s heart beats gently in your ear, a soothing rhythm that offsets your own. He’s always been overly warm to the touch, but over time, you got used to it, and feeling it so close to you now is oddly therapeutic. He stares up at the ceiling, and you stare out the window by your bed; still just that futon mattress on the floor.

“It’s getting late,” he says, breaking a silence that lasted aeons, yet still doesn’t feel like it’s long enough.

“Yeah…” you say, hiding your dejection by burying your face into his chest, nestling further into a warmth that your empty bed no longer provides for you.

You both know what comes next. It’s inevitable. Inescapable. But when you rise up onto your arms to look down at him, and he, up at you, there’s a temptation to say something else. Ask him something new. Take the road less travelled. Your mouth opens, hesitant, and you think you can hear Vergil hold his breath.

But at least for another night, courage eludes you.

“You should go…”

Vergil looks away. “…I should.”


	10. Multiple prompts (Credo x Verses!reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you + Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures + Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move. (with credo x reader 🙈 sorry)

## Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you

You know he’s doing it again. It’s always incredibly easy to tell whenever your Captain is having _improper_ thoughts about you - his eyes take on that distant, faraway look he gets right after he’s cum. But the goosebumps that form over your skin aren’t borne of discomfort. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Knowing that undoing the first two buttons of your blouse is all that it takes for his mind to wander is so empowering in a way you never thought was possible until the day you caught him staring a little too long at that stretch of skin between the hem of your skirt and your boots.

You wonder just what he’s thinking about for all of two seconds before you decide that isn’t your business.

You’ll just undo one more button and let him have his fun. He’s deserved it.  
  


* * *

## Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures

He’s honestly only glimpsed them in passing. Fortuna is not without its own little red light district, stocked with all manner of… aids and obscene magazines. You told him yourself that it’s poorly stocked and incredibly sparse for something intended to be so indecent, but at the time, Credo thought nothing of it.

But tonight, cooped up in his private bathroom in his office, achingly hard cock in hand, he wishes he had something to help him along. Ideally, it would be you, arching into his touch, but he’d sent you away on vacation days ago, and though you’d left him an erotic magazine as a gag gift before you left, he, entirely flustered, threw it out immediately.

He wishes he hadn’t.  
  


* * *

## Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move

There have been moments in this last week where you’re still surprised at yourself for being able to convince Credo to join you for the last week of your vacation. Though it was less ‘convincing’ and more explaining to him that you’d already gone ahead and made all the arrangements, and that if he refused, it would all just go to waste.

He’s far too practical and pragmatic to let that happen.

So for the past few days, he’s been with you almost 24 hours a day, soaking up the fresh lifestyle of the mainland; trying different food; seeing live shows; the zoo; everything that Fortuna cannot or simply _does not_ offer. There are only three days left now. Time is running out.

So when he bids you goodnight, standing there at the doorway that separates your conjoined hotel rooms (you knew full well he would be far too modest to share one with you), instead of turning and retreating back to your own lonely quarters, you stand your ground and stare up at him.

“The tenets of the Order don’t reach us here on the mainland,” you begin, “the time we’ve spent here has been as two people. Just ordinary people.”

Something gleams in his eyes for only a second, and you know he’s hearing what you aren’t saying.

_‘Whatever happens between us here will stay here.’_

He stands there for a long time, just looking at you, fighting a battle that you can’t see. Already sensing that you’ve lost, your gaze drops, and you murmur a bitter goodnight to your Captain.

When you turn to spend the rest of your night alone, you feel his hand grip your wrist, and walls crumble.


	11. Lalochezia (Vergil & Nero Familial)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Lalochezia - Vergil and Nero, and their father-son relationship

## Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain.

If there’s one thing that Nero understands about his father, it’s that Vergil is an extremely even tempered and mild-mannered man; he doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t get angry (at least in the way he does); and he never _ever_ swears. Not even for the ever tame and very widely accepted ‘crap’. Whether it’s something that Vergil thinks he is above, or just simply never does, Nero has never really bothered to question.

But when a vast number of portals tear open in Fortuna, flooding the city with wave after wave of demons, when Nico radios in to tell them that a horde is moving in on the orphanage, Nero hears Vergil snarl out two words that simultaneously chill and warm him: “ _Fucking pests.”_

If Vergil had anything more to add after that, Nero doesn’t hear it, because he’s already phased an entire block away, heading back to the orphanage ahead of his son. Nero’s never heard more vehemence packed into two simple words before. And he’s certainly never felt this sort of pride towards his father before today. It wrenches at his heart with a ferocity not unlike that of the waves of demons swarming the city - knowing that someone like Vergil would care so deeply, so distressingly _intensely_ for something that has no connection to his bloodline.

Nero knows the orphanage is in good hands if Vergil is holding the defense.


	12. Mamihlapinatapei (Credo x Verses!Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Mamihlapinatapei- credo and assisstant 😳

## Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move

Chaos, in its purest form, is raining down all around you. Strange demons that look more like malformed puppets fill the streets, breaking into homes, killing civilians. There are protocols in place for this. Safety measures and precautions for the potential myriad of problems that may occur when a city is literally built atop a hellgate. But there are none in place for when a mysterious man in red drops down through the ceiling and inflicts a very sudden case of ‘bullet in brain’ in the island’s most important figure.

You’ve never seen Credo so shaken.

“What do you want me to do?” When you voice doesn’t seem to reach him, you try again, more urgently. “ _Tell me what to do!!”_

His eyes snap up towards you then, and he pushes you toward his sister - a wordless command for you to see her, and as many citizens as you can, to safety. Though one hand is on your sword, the other refuses to let go of his arm; you’re shaking. Afraid. But not for you, per se. You’ve seen all the movies. If you say something, it will spell out death for one of you. If you kiss him, that probably means you’re _both_ going to bite it. So all you can do is stare at him, pleading.

His eyes are telling you the same thing.


	13. Multiple Prompts (Credo x reader mild NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Listen....I have two but you can separate them.....I'm a slut for pining, so strikhedonia and lygerastia with credo, he deserves some pleasant spontaneity 😭

## Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”. 

Credo is a man who, above all else, serves the Order; he obeys the tenets without fail; he holds a deep admiration for both His Holiness _and_ Sparda; he’s devoted his life, his entire sense of self to its beliefs. In plainer words, Credo, despite his esteemed position, is a man who follows the rules. Who obeys. It’s as simple as that.

But neither of you are wearing your uniforms. You’re not even in Fortuna at all. Those strict rules and regulations and _indoctrination_ have no power, no jurisdiction here. It’s just you, in that dress that sinks far too low down the front, and sits far too high up your thighs. And him, staring down into your eyes that are almost begging him to take this chance. To be selfish. He spends a long time looking into those eyes, feeling his heart begin to race at all the opportunities that lay before him if he just… gives in. Just lets go.

 _For just one night_ , your eyes seem to be saying.

His heart feels so light when he wrenches you toward him, and the moment his lips capture yours, he realises that freedom feels, smells and _tastes_ like you.  
  


* * *

## Lygerastia - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out. 

You always knew Credo to be the private sort, always discreet in his affections. He never holds your hand, hardly ever even touches you in public. But at night, when he sheds the pristine white of his uniform and hangs up his Durandal, he slinks under the cover of darkness and devours you whole. At night, all bets are off.

His hands are always wandering, always seeking you out, groping and squeezing at your flesh. It doesn’t matter where, it doesn’t matter that he can’t really see; he has the whole night to map out your body with his hands, his fingers, his tongue, his cock… And you are always so receptive. Always so eager to feel him against you. Inside you. All over you. His love is sweaty and sticky and _wet_.

You always knew Credo to be the private sort, but that look he gives you as he blows out the final candle in your bedroom tells you in no uncertain terms that tonight, again, you won’t be sleeping.


	14. Capernoited (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Capernoited drunk Vergil with reader!!

## Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.

For a man who was crowned as Demon King for a whole month, gained an insurmountable amount of power from it, Vergil can never seem to hold a drink. He can take three light beers _at the most_ before he is unintelligible and mopey. 

Currently, he’s at two.

Vergil is not known for being handsy; he tends to keep to himself, in all possible meanings of the phrase. But when he was half a can deep into his first drink, he started to sidle closer to you. By the time he finished that first can, his head somehow kept finding your shoulder. By the midway point of the second, his hands were around you. And now, as he tosses that same can, now empty, into the trash (with perfect aim somehow), you’re stuck in his lap.

There isn’t anything suggestive in what he’s doing, if anything, he just seems clingy - always wanting to be touching you. Holding you. Mumbling nothings (literally) into your ear. To be honest, it’s actually kind of really sweet. You’re just not sure that being the subject of an impromptu photo shoot at the mercy of a giggling Dante is worth it.

And he probably won’t either, once Vergil finds out about it tomorrow.


	15. Concilliabule (Dante x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Concilliabule. Dante gets reader to reveal their killer Jell-O shot recipe, and use it on Vergil  
> 

## Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot.

With one last squaring of your shoulders, and one final adjustment of the aviators that hide your eyes, you toss a look over both of your shoulders, checking the street on either side of you before you nudge the door of Devil May Cry open with your shoulder. You’re about halfway through when Dante, also wearing a pair of aviators appears, blocking your path.

“You bring the goods?” He asks you, voice solemn and authoritative. Like a bouncer keeping out the no-listers.

You emphasise the brown paper bag you’ve bundled up to your chest by jostling its contents. “Right here.” Peeking under the arm that he’s using to hold the door open, you peer into the office behind him. It’s dark. Only the light in the kitchenette is on, but that’s all you need. You tilt your head back up at Dante. “I take it he isn’t back yet?”

“Won’t be for the next two hours. I made sure of that.” It’s his turn to check the streets now, half ducking his head out the doorway. He happens to make eye contact with an elderly woman, but as if sensing something clandestine, she immediately crosses to the opposite side of the street. “Were you followed?”

“Of course not.”

For only a short second, a smile betrays the air of professionalism that he’d so expertly exuded up until then. He steps to the side of the door, creating a gap just wide enough for you to slip through. “Step inside, ma’am.”

He follows you the whole way to the kitchen. Though with how close he’s standing behind you as he does it, chest virtually to your back, it’s more like an escort. For what is ultimately just an excuse to get Vergil drunk, he sure is taking this whole thing seriously. But that’s what you love about Dante’s company.

You plonk the brown paper bag in your hands on the kitchen bench, and reveal, one by one, the ingredients of your exceedingly simple, but nefarious scheme; disposable shot cups, several packets of jell-o (different flavours), and the one item that ties them all together. A bottle of Smirnoff. It’s not the most fancy brand of vodka on the market, but you’re making goddamn jell-o shots, not martinis for six figure salarymen. This is more than enough.

Dante lifts the packet of plastic cups to his face, angling his head down so his aviators slide down the bridge of his nose. “You sure this is gonna knock him out? These seem kinda small.”

“Sweetheart,” you begin, “with how I make them? He’ll be out within 5.”

In the end, it took only one before Vergil passed out at his desk.


	16. Cheiloproclitic (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Could ya do Cheiloproclitic for Vergil x shy/naive reader ?

## Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips.

Despite his… unique sense of fashion, the unusual shade of his hair, the otherworldly colour of his eyes, it’s Vergil’s lips that you first noticed. Like _really_ noticed. They tug so handsomely into a smile, into a smirk. They always seem to have sort of a… glossy sheen to them. And his lower lip is especially inviting; the exact sort of plush that makes you want to bite on it and _pull_.

Immediately, and seemingly out of nowhere, you blush and direct your eyes down to the floor instead. What on earth are you thinking?! Did you really just think that?! _That?!_

Chancing a fleeting look back up at Vergil, he doesn’t seem to have noticed your sudden recoil, but rather than utilise this moment to quit while you’re ahead, your eyes fall to those lips again. They’re parted just slightly, and you can barely make out his tongue moving behind them as he reads silently to himself. What would they feel like, pressed to the most sensitive parts of you? What other languages can that tongue speak against your skin?

You cover your face with your hands. You’ve absolutely gone too far with that one. What is _wrong_ with you today?!

“You know,” Vergil’s voice suddenly says from directly in front of you. With a mild yelp, you drop your hands from your face and sink further back into the couch. But that just makes Vergil lean closer. Your eyes are dropping to his lips again. You know it. And you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he does too, because he’s smiling. Smirking. Whichever. You can’t really think right now. “It would be easier on both of us if you simply took what you wanted.”

He starts to say something else, but before regret can claim you, you’re already leaning in.


	17. Cataglottism (Vergil x Reader mild NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Cataglottism, Vergil and inexperience reader.

## Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue.

He’s always thought you were cute. From the way you so shyly averted your gaze from him when you confessed your feelings, to the gentle trembling of your hands as they clutched at the lapels of his coat when you pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, because that was, at the time, all the courage that you could muster.

He thought that was cute too.

But these tiny little squeaks that you’re making - the only real descriptor of them that he can think of is indeed the word ‘squeaks’ - those gasps of air as your lips move a little more desperately against his makes his blood begin to seethe. But not with rage, or anger, or frustration. At least, not in a conventional sense.

You moan into his mouth when you feel his tongue swipe at your lower lip, and you nervously open yourself to him. It’s dizzying to you, how ravenous Vergil seems; his hands fall a little heavier on your body, fingers pressing into you. Heat floods your cheeks, heats your face right to the very tips of your ears when his tongue so eagerly melds with yours, so smooth and somehow _cool_ , writhing and squirming. You can hear it too - a wet sort of smacking noise - and you whine when you realise it’s the sound of this kiss.

He presses into you deeper, firmer, more frantically, and suddenly your head is spinning, feeling a trail of a mix of both of your saliva roll down your chin.

When he finally pulls back, your eyes are somehow wet, and your breaths are short and uneven. You give yourself a moment to recover.

And then you go back for more.


	18. Anagapesis (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Hi! Can I request Anagapesis with Vergil and demon!reader, following the line that Vergil cheated with Nero's mother

## Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did.

At first you thought he was drawn to your power, interested only in obtaining it the same way his brother now walks with an entire arsenal of demonic weapons at his back. But over time, those thoughts began to fade - he was spending more time with you, seeking you out not to learn more of your heritage, but merely just to _be_ with you.

It feels… strange to you at first.

But there’s no denying that sense of fulfilment that being in his presence grants you, a longing that builds the more you spend with him, and then more fiercely when you aren’t.

He has you backed up in the kitchen one day, your back to the smooth cool surface of the fridge. There’s a pointed magnet that’s jutting into your back because of this, but you’re more drawn to the intensity of his eyes as he searches your face.

“Are you not sworn to someone already?” You ask, voice somewhere between hurt and regret. “I was under the assumption that humans mate for life.”

You mean the woman who harboured Nero for the eleven month duration of his gestation. Or is it nine months? You can never really remember the intricacies of the human body. You don’t have any reason to.

He pulls back slightly, but only just, giving your question an honest moment’s contemplation with a vague tilt of his head. “It’s never that simple. I was young. Brash. Foolish.” He looks at you again. “Can you say you’ve never once given in to the will of youth?”

Something in your face relaxes, your entire expression falling a little loose. You’re smiling when you take the initiative and close the distance between your faces.

This can be _your_ youthful flight of fancy.


	19. Multiple Prompts (Dante x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Tarantism and baisemain with Dante x reader?

## Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.

You’ve seen Dante like this before, this despondent and disheartened air. He had just lost his brother back then, let him slip right through his fingers. And a decade later, on an island far away, it’s happened again.

The office is completely dark, shrouded in an oppressive cloak that somehow feels as though it has a physical presence. A real sense of mass. It weighs you down. It weight Dante down. It hurts.

It hurts so much.

The jukebox flickers to life when you switch it on, a harsh radio static filling the air until you select one of the only **_[soft tunes](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dz4PKzz81m5c&t=ZjliM2M4NjM0N2E0ZTVhZWZkMDRkNTNkN2M5YTY2YjViMmNiM2UxMixwTWJIdlZkMw%3D%3D&b=t%3AgrgKa-9cb6RcfBeFtkEi4w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fsynchronmurmurs.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F614716099954622464%2Ftarantism-and-baisemain-with-dante-x-reader&m=0)_** it has on offer, and then Dante feels you tugging on his hand. His eyes, so tired, glowing in the darkness only because his inhuman heritage dictates it, stare up at you questioningly. But you only tilt your head and give him a sad smile.

He normally has so much life in him, but it’s with a palpable burden that he shuffles to his feet, letting you drag him around his desk, leading him to the empty space where you spin and sway with him. It’s clumsy, it’s off rhythm, it’s lacking in any real energy. To any onlookers, it’s more a slow shuffle in a repetitive and uneven circle than a dance, but this moment, even more than the harsh neon lights of the jukebox, help to drive the darkness away.

His arms circle you, his head dips into your shoulder, and you both spin and spin and spin until the sun rises.  
  


* * *

## Baisemain - A kiss on the hand.

When the sun is halfway over the horizon, dusting the morning sky with orange, the song stops, and his jukebox finally gives out with a fizzle and a crackle of sparks. For another short moment, you both continue to sway, letting the steady beat of booted feet hold the founding rhythm of this dance, but even that eventually slows to a a gradual, natural stop.

Dante continues to hold you for another minute in complete silence. He breathes in the smell of you, squeezes you just a little harder, and when his eyes open, it’s to daylight.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs into your shoulder, and then he feels _your_ arms hold him a little tighter too.

Your lips bury themselves into his hair. “Don’t be. Just let me be here for you.”

His solid embrace melts away, the warmth of his body lifts from yours, but his hands skim down the length of your arms and capture your hands in his. These he lifts to his mouth, and, pressing his lips to the backs of your knuckles one hand at a time, he hums.


	20. Ultracrepidarian (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> I think tumblr ate my request 😭But how about for Ultracrepidarian Vergil x shy/naive girlfriend, and she's specifically giving information/ opinions on demon/demonology

## Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge.

“You don’t think it might be a Lusachia?” You offer, tapping at the manila folder containing its reports. For somebody generally so casual and haphazard, Nico is surprisingly thorough in maintaining her findings - all of her reports are in impeccable condition, and extremely concise.

Vergil frowns at you from the other side of his desk. “I don’t believe so. Their spells are formidable, and I didn’t sense enough demonic power for it to have been the work of something so innately powerful.”

Something in you deflates, but you’re not keen on giving up. Sucking in a breath, you try again. “But considering the extensive damages, the explosion that caused them must have–”

With a squeal of his chair against the floorboards, Vergil rises to his feet and leans across his desk to lightly flick at your forehead. “As someone who is more in tune with the nature of a demon’s output of energy, I cannot help but feel you are overstepping your boundaries.”

You make a half strangled, half choked noise as you take a step backwards to escape his range, clutching at your forehead. It doesn’t hurt, but you can’t help but rub at the spot anyway, lips set in a pout. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I’m aware, and I thank you.” Vergil informs you. “But I think this may be a case in which it is, as Dante put it, ‘better left to the experts’.”

As Vergil passes you on the way out of the office, he plants a light kiss to your forehead as if that alone will make up for his previous transgression.


	21. Starved (Dante x Reader Slight NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> 99 and Dante oh my god it’s so in character for him I’m dying 😂

## “You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is barren. Dante knows because he’d already rifled through every drawer, every shelf in the pantry, and every cupboard looking for scraps. He doesn’t really understand why he thinks trying again will yield him different results, as though a leg of ham will have _magically_ appeared in the time he wasn’t looking, and yet he’s opening and the exact same doors to the exact same cupboards and drawers as he did an hour ago. Unsurprisingly, there’s no new holy grail of foodstuff to be found within Devil May Cry’s kitchen, and so Dante closes the cupboard doors with a soft disappointed sigh.

It’s then that he hears the office doors swing open with a protesting groan of un-oiled hinges. The presence that enters is not his brother. It’s smaller, both in size and scale, but it also isn’t Trish. So Lady then? Morrison? He lightly sniffs at the air; normally he’d be able to make out the smell of gunpowder or cigars, but instead, he’s getting fruity notes.

Ah, good, that means he doesn’t have to squeeze himself out the tiny kitchen window to escape another barrage of payments of unpaid debts.

“Dante? What’re you doing back here?”

He hears your voice and the click of your shoes before he sees you, stepping into view to prop one arm up high on the open frame of the kitchen entryway with a questioning tilt of your head that he returns in kind. He may not have found a leg of ham on his return visit, but he’s certainly been blessed now with legs of something else. His eyes skim down your body, something igniting in them the lower they sink, until they come to rest on your thighs, and the colour in them flares.

“Oh, I was just looking for a snack.” He says, finally tearing his burning gaze from the sleek shape of your thighs. He closes the doors of the cupboards he was poking around in, and meets your eyes with a wolfish grin.

You know that look, that gleam in his eyes, that particular curve of his smile, but you play ignorant, letting him stalk over to you to slink heavy hands around your waist to settle on your ass.

“But **you know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in**.”

“Is that so?” You’re smiling at him now, voice laden in a mischief that reflects his. Dante hums in response, adjusting his hold on you so he can cup two handfuls of your ass to lift you up against him. You weigh absolutely nothing in his arms; an aspect of his strength that you find just as arousing as when he’s tearing your clothes to shreds with nothing but a flex of his wrists. You give him a knowing smile when he props you atop one of the sparse counters, his mouth already moving against every stretch of bare skin to taste and tease. You feel the prick of his teeth marking your shoulder at the same time you feel his fingers pop the button of your shorts, and you automatically spread your legs for him when his hand wedges itself down the front of your pants. His fingers are moving against you immediately, rubbing down the length of your slit while his palm presses insistently at its peak, bearing down on your clit that’s beginning to throb and swell.

The heat of his hand is so welcome against you, rocking in steady motions while his teeth follow your pulse up your throat and along your jaw, until he claims your lips and swallows every sound you make. Your hands fall to his arms, feeling the muscles flex as he helps you shimmy out of your shorts, pulling only one leg free of the obstructing article of clothing before he returns to his place between your legs. He pulls your body right onto the edge of the counter as he kisses a path down your body, arched perfectly towards him in anticipation of his mouth on you. It isn’t until he reaches that innocent little bow on the elastic band of your panties that he finally stops, and the sight of his face between your legs, one cheek pressed into the bare skin of your thigh, makes you writhe.

His fingers tease at the very edge of your panties, one finger curling underneath the seat of it to pull lightly, and though he can smell your arousal so strongly from this proximity, he keeps his eyes on you. He presses another kiss to the apex of your slit, where he knows your clit is hidden, and he grins up at you again.

“Bone apple tea.”

Dinner is served.


	22. Starved II (Vergil x Reader Slight NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> 99) "There wasn't a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in." 😌👉🏻👈🏻 I feel weird asking but----- Vergil.....

## “You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”

Payday is still too many days away, and though you loathe to admit it, your kitchen is sadly just as empty and desolate as what you imagine the Devil May Cry kitchen to be at all times.

Well. No, okay, so maybe you’re a little more well stocked than that.

But the truth of the matter is that no matter how many times you open your fridge, nothing within it is catching your eye. Not the leftover pad thai you ordered last night, not even the chocolate mousse you’ve been keeping around exactly for moments like this. Closing the fridge door with a soft thump, you lean back on it and groan, a low rolling lament that reaches Vergil’s ears from his seat on your couch in the living room. He glances up at the clock, notes that it’s lunchtime, and nods to himself in silent understanding of your rueful sorrow. He slips the scrap of paper he’s been using as a bookmark into the crease of the book in his hands and deposits it onto the couch beside him before he rises to his feet and makes his way toward the kitchen to appease the predator that’s apparently on the prowl.

When he gets there, you’re still dangling off the handles of the fridge door and wailing to your ceiling in exaggerated sobs; it’s miraculous how they’re not swinging open again under the weight of you, and he opens his mouth to say exactly that until you cut him off with a jerk of your head towards him.

“Vergiiiiiil.” Your voice is somewhere between cheeky and another whining drawl, and he suddenly feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

He has a bad feeling about this.

“What is it?” Suspicion creeps into his tone, and then into the rest of him when you slink over to him, licking your lips.

**Bad feelings: Pending…**

You press up into him, nuzzling your face into his chest and taking a deep breath of his scent into your lungs. Your hands are roaming his body, slipping underneath his shirt to smooth one of your palms over the skin of his back.

**Bad feelings: Still Pending…**

And then your other hand sinks down to his crotch where you palm at his cock until he begins to harden with a hiss of breath expelled through his teeth. Your eyes meet his, and they’re glittering with a different sort of hunger now. Reaching up onto the very tips of your toes (and you note he does bend down a little to meet you halfway), you lick at his lips with the tip of your tongue, pulling away with a coy smile when he parts them to taste more of you.

“ **You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.** ”

When you sink to your knees in front of him and work his cock out of his sweatpants, when you press your plump lips over the tip and lave over his slit with your wet tongue, he thinks this isn’t so bad after all.


	23. Tattoo (Credo x Verses!Reader NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> #53 with Credo please!
> 
> This one is loosely set within my [ **Verses of Fortune** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650229/chapters/54135061) series! 

## “Is that a tattoo?”

It isn’t often that Credo lavishes you in attention; it’s normally the other way around with you worshipping his body with fleeting touches of fingertips over bared skin and kisses that press into every dip and divot of his abdomen. But today, the tables have been turned on you, and you lie beneath him practically naked save for your opened blouse and stockings. It’s all part of that dishevelled aesthetic you know that he likes; he loves having you still half decent when he takes you, finding it thrilling and all the more scandalous in nature.

It’s normally a rather quick affair too. You’d ride him in his chair, chest pressed into his face while you control the pace you fuck him at. But you’ve relinquished those rights to him for now, letting him slowly unveil your skin inch by inch, and explore your body with his hands and mouth at his own leisure. They’re so thorough in their journey down your body, pausing every now and then to let the sensation, the feel, the taste of you eke out a permanent place in his memory. He loves your quick and dirty affairs, whether it’s a stealthy blowjob in the storerooms, or wandering hands underneath the table during meetings, but this warms his body in a whole new way.

A curious tongue dips into your bellybutton, earning him an arching of your back and a whimper of his name that he also commits to memory. And then hes continuing further down where the smell of your arousal is the strongest.

Except his soft kisses come to a stop, his head lifting away from the warmth of your skin. You lift your head to look down at him to find him gently thumbing at a certain spot high up on your thigh. Far too high to be modest by any stretch of the term.

That very notion makes his body tingle and his cock ache.

“ **Is that a tattoo?** ” He asks, eyes trained on the simple monochrome padlock that adorns your bikini line.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and let your head drop back onto your pillow. “Yeah. I got it a while back, since… you know, I was a thief once. It seemed like a cute idea at the time. Half the time I forget I even have it. Do you like it?”

Credo ponders that for a moment. Tattoos are a rare sight in Fortuna, doubly so when all citizens dress so modestly. But as much of a law enforcer as he is, the forbidden nature of that little black mark on you gives him a giddy sense of thrill. It was your little secret for so long, and now this one is his too. Smiling, he presses his lips to it, and then you feel something wet and hot drag across your skin when he sucks colour into those crisp black lines.

“I do.” He doesn’t know too much about tattoos, only that they hurt, and that they require touch ups now and then to keep them fresh.

He’ll have to keep revisiting yours to keep the colour from fading.


	24. Closeted (Vergil x Reader Slight NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Vergil + 28, with a shy reader? Thank you so much if you do and good night!! 💖💖💖

## “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

How did it come to this? What started out as a friendly get together with the whole crew to celebrate another year ended up with you piled into a… a… what even is this room? A storage closet? You can’t really tell. Partly because it’s just too dark for you make out any of the blurry black smudges in the darkness. It doesn’t have anything to do with Vergil pressing you into the wall while his hands busy themselves with roaming your body.

His mouth on yours, tasting faintly of the sort of cheap liquor that Dante always keeps on hand, is desperate and unbridled, a melding of your meek flavours with his bold tones that produces something so mind-numbingly sweet that you’re breathless and openly mewling into his mouth.

Is that noise coming from you? You can hardly believe it. The heat in your cheeks is scalding even against the natural heat of Vergil, still pressed so tightly against you. He’s caged you in with his body, there’s nowhere for you to go except directly into everything he’s giving you; those wet kisses and those hands that are gripping your hips and guiding them gently over his thigh. You’re breathing hard into his mouth, muffling high pitched squeaks with the fervent entwining of your tongues and trying hard, so damn hard to keep your head above the water.

But with each pull of your hips over his thigh between your legs, each desperate press of his fingers into your body, you’re dragged lower and lower until you’re completely submerged in the deep blues of his affections.

You mumble something that resembles his name into his open mouth and he finally pulls away to look at you with cheshire eyes - two glowing orbs in the darkness.

“ **If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.** ”

Doing your best to catch your breath within this typhoon, you give yourself only a brief moment before you suck in half a lungful of air and willingly sink back into those murky depths.


	25. Choked (Vergil x Pact!Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Can I have uhhhhh 2 with Vergil/Liv

## “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

It’s normally always a very frantic affair whenever you both decide to indulge in outdoor sex. It’s impatient pulling at clothing, half opened trousers, and pants dragged halfway down your thighs before Vergil urges you against a wall. One day you’ll convince _him_ to let you suck his cock in an alley somewhere, have him be the more vulnerable party for once, but for now, with him huffing and puffing behind you, hands scrabbling for purchase anywhere he can find it on your body, you suppose this is fine. When Vergil wedges himself a bit deeper, a bit harder, when you feel the burn of his body through your back, and you melt into his rough pace, you suppose this is _very_ fine.

And when his hand, still desperately struggling to find an appropriate anchor point on your body with those annoying flaps of loose clothing and straps, closes around your throat, squeezing just barely so he can piston his turgid cock in and out of you with just a little more of that fervour that makes your eyes roll, you forget how to even think. With one hand at your neck, he sweeps you off your feet, and you can feel yourself falling and spinning. Your head lulls back against his shoulder, and as simply as that, you’re completely pliant to his touch, his every whim.

All of your noises are muffled, coming out dry and wheezy, Vergil can feel your pulse thrumming under his fingers, just as frantic and frenzied as the way you’re little cunt clenches around him the more pressure he applies, and between short gasps, he whispers into your ear.

“ **You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.** ”

Vergil, with a snide little smile, later on tells you that you came immediately after he said that.


	26. Gagged (Punchy x Vergil NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> 76 with Vergil/punchy

## “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”

Neither of them have any real understanding of how or why this keeps happening. They fight, and more often than not, more often than either of them ever want to admit, they end up fucking. Sometimes it’s in a sleazy motel, sometimes in her apartment (for better or worse, Vergil now knows where she lives), and sometimes they only make it as far as that dark alley between two buildings. It’s never gentle. Never slow. Never soft or tender. The only feelings present are the residual sparks of her thunder; quiet snarls (from both parties) and torn clothing. It’s quick and messy and dirty and sometimes bloody.

Vergil watches her bounce herself on his cock, her blunt nails digging deep crescents into his thighs. His eyes travel upwards from where they’re momentarily joined, watching the muscles in her back and shoulders ripple and flex on each stroke, coated in a thin, pleasing sheen of sweat; those subtle movements grant the illusion that the two vipers that are tattooed into her shoulders are moving, slithering across her slippery skin, and this, he watches with a raw fascination.

But then she’s half twisting her body to look at him over her shoulder, golden brown eyes bearing the same sharp gleam they always hold; an air of danger and virulence that matches his own. Vergil clenches his jaw when their eyes meet, body tensing, riddled with the need to wipe that infuriating look off her face when she has the audacity to sneer at him.

“You know,” she rasps, voice low and breathy, “ **I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.** ”

Threads snap as Vergil bites down hard on the wad of black material in his mouth; a pair of simple cotton panties.

At least she’ll never be able to wear them ever again.


	27. Party Pleaser (Dante x Reader Slight NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Hello, can I have 45 with Dante plz :>

## “When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.”

For all of the things that a life and relationship with Dante offers (incredible sex being chief among them), an excuse to dress up is regretfully missing from the list. It says something about the company you and Dante keep that the only person with any real connections to anybody else is _Morrison_ , and that’s only because it’s his _job_. So imagine your pleasant surprise when, as yet another year passed, Patty rang up the office to pester Dante about her birthday party once more. And imagine Dante’s tired exasperation when you happened to be within earshot of the call and looking at him with the bright expectant eyes of a soon-to-be party goer.

And that’s how (and why) he’s currently at a birthday party, surrounded by little creatures almost half his age gripping your hand like it’s a lifeline. Is he happy for Patty? Of course. But does he belong here? Abso-fucking-lutely not. But at least he isn’t alone.

At his side, you give him an apologetic smile and drag him into a cleared space in the middle of the room - an impromptu dance floor. The beat of the music is a little too fast for the rhythm at which you’re both swaying, but your intent wasn’t to spin in idle circles, oh no. You press into him, taking advantage of his larger frame, and the way his hands have automatically, perhaps even knowingly, slid down to your waist, hanging just shy of the curve of your ass. You slip one of your arms around his neck, fingers curling into the hair at his nape before pulling him down and burying his face into your shoulder. It hunches him over, making it look more like a romantic embrace, and providing extra cover for your other hand which creeps down his front until you’re gripping the bulk of his flaccid cock.

You slowly palm him to life, massaging and teasing, whimpering into his ear when you feel his breath against your neck as it begins to harden.

“Fuck–” Dante has to consciously keep his hips still, has to remind himself that he’s currently in the middle of a room full of ghastly little children (at least as far as he’s concerned). “Is this how you’re planning on making it up to me?” It’s hidden by your hair that falls down around your shoulders, but his teeth find your collar.

“ **When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.** ”


	28. Captain, O Captain (Credo x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> 69 with Credo ;)
> 
> I did change up the sentence just a touch though, if only because I can’t really see Credo calling himself anybody’s daddy. If it ends up happening, it’s usually his S/O sobbing it into a pillow. 👀

## “Come here, baby, let Daddy take care of you.”

Though the days where Credo wishes to exert control on you are rare, few and far between, they’re normally a result of a trying week at work, cooped up behind his desk with little to no reprieve. You knew the moment he returned home to you, undoing the leather harnesses that support his Durandal around his waist with a practiced precision and tossing it onto the couch with little care, knew the moment he grabbed you and tilted your head up to meet him for a domineering kiss that took _seconds_ to become sloppy and desperate, that tonight was going to be a very long one.

And lord, are you aching for it. For him to use you like on those nights where you use him. Oh, this is long overdue.

Your panties had already soaked through by the second set of spankings he’d given you, the burning heat of your stinging ass and thighs cooled and soothed when Credo dipped his hand between your legs to gather up an abundance of your slick onto his fingers to spread over your sore and tender skin. He’d alternated between massaging one round globe in his palm, keeping you on your toes as to whether he would deliver another harsh slap, or a soft fondling. He was enjoying himself, whispering quiet praises to you. But it was his thick cock, already hard and leaking, poking into your stomach that told you this more than anything.

That same cock that he’s now thrusting into your mouth almost recklessly. He has a handful of your hair bunched up into his fist, using it as leverage to pull your head along his length. Your hands were bound behind your back with his belts somewhere over the course of the night, and they pull on their bonds helplessly, your arms beginning to sting and burn just like your ass is from the all tension you’ve been forcing upon them. Credo isn’t rough with you though; he’s had you drooling all over his cock before, with flushed cheeks and wet eyes, gasping for breath, but tonight his fucking of your face is merely deep and thorough, full strokes of your mouth along his shaft from the tip all the way to the very base of him.

“Swallow it all,” is the only warning he gives you before he bottoms out, pulling your head forward until your nose brushes the happy trail he always keep well trimmed. Thick ropes of his salty, bitter cum pour haplessly down your throat, and your thighs clench together beneath you, wishing he was pumping your aching cunt full instead. His voice above you fades in and out, drowned out by the beat of your pulse, the throb of his pulsing cock, and your own needy little gulps as you take every drop of his cum like the needy little slut he’s been addressing you as all night.

When the static fades from within your own head, when both of your breaths begin to even out, Credo slips his cock from between your lips, releases your hair and gently thumbs at your cheek with a tenderness that has you leaning into his hand. His other hand cups your face, does the same thing to your other cheek, and then you’re swaying into into that touch too.

That warmth skims down the sides of your neck, down your arms, where they grip you to gently lift you into his lap. His lips press into your temple, hands wrapping around you to begin undoing your makeshift bonds where they then rub at the rest welts his belts left embedded into your skin. When your arms stop tingling, they sling over his shoulders and he pulls you closer, wedging your neglected cunt against his cock, still hard and twitching.

“ **Come here, baby** ,” he murmurs into your skin, “ **let your Captain take care of you now.** ”


	29. Desperate (Vergil x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> May I request a ficlet for 59 and/or 92 with Vergil please?

## “So desperate for it, aren’t you? Well, if you want it so bad you’d better start taking it.”

You’re laughing almost giddily as Vergil makes short work of your stockings. You feel them pull tight around you before the material pops over his fingers, tearing all the way up the crotch seam until he has access to the flimsy strings of your panties. He hooks his finger underneath the one that rests right inside the cleft of your ass, pulling until it stretches over your left ass cheek where he lets it snap back against your skin. With the upper half of your body braced over his desk, you let your head drop the cool surface and let out a playful yelp when the elastic snaps onto your ass. And, not liking the flirtatious sound of your voice, Vergil’s hand follows with a curt slap to your outer thigh. He leans down over you, chest to your back, lips hovering just behind your head, whispering in that low husky voice that makes your thighs quiver.

“ **So desperate for it, aren’t you? Well, if you want it so bad you’d better start taking it.** ”

There’s no fanfare, no pause as he carefully lines up the head of his cock with your sopping hole, just one hard thrust as he bottoms out in you in one single motion, and the both of you groan in unison. He fucks you hard in full, strong strokes, forceful enough that the desk rattles underneath you.

Oh you’ll take him. You’ll take as much of him as he’ll give you tonight. And the next night. And the night after that too.

For as long as he’ll have you.


	30. Tease (Dante x Reader Slight NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Hey! What's up? Saw your recent post for smut prompts and a few interested me. Can you do 27 for Dante

## “Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

The last time someone bit down on Ivory, he was suspended in midair and fighting with his nephew. Granted, he didn’t know it was his nephew at the time, but he had been rather annoyed that someone had dared to put their mouth, of all things, on a pistol. Dante doesn’t seem the type, but if there’s anything he takes pride in, it’s the condition he keeps his weapons in - can’t be calling yourself a Legendary Devil Hunter if your equipment isn’t up to snuff, after all, right?

But when he lifts Ivory up into the light, idly aiming down the sight during a routine clean, and you lean over and gently run the tip of your tongue over his fingers and along the barrel, his body goes rigid as he tries to process the flurry of thoughts that run through his head.

In the end though, all he really homes in on are the thoughts that lead him straight toward his cock twitching in his pants. He doesn’t really understand it yet, doesn’t know why he’s reacting to your lips moulding over the side of the barrel… maybe it’s the essence of danger it carries, maybe it’s the extremely thinly veiled euphemism. Whatever it is, he groans.

“ **Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.** ”

Your eyes flicker over to meet with his, glittering brightly with a clear sense of unspoken challenge that peaks with another flick of your tongue over his fingers, and a devious, knowing smile. The next thing you know, you’re slung over his shoulder, and one of his large hands is giving your ass a quick, playful smack as he walks you to his room. This isn’t the first time your smart little mouth has gotten you in trouble with Dante.

And it’s far from the last.


	31. Restraint (Credo x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> and 51 for Credo?

## “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

Clicking his office door shut and locking it behind you, you turn and slowly stalk back over towards Credo’s desk where he awaits you, body straight and rigid in his seat. His back is so straight, it looks almost as if he’s being suspended by invisible strings, an obedient little puppet, at the whims of his master.

You suppose that’s you.

Rounding his desk, you place your little satchel of goodies to the side before you lean your hip against the solid wooden structure, studying him for a moment before you casually begin to unbutton your blouse.

“ **Did you touch yourself while I was gone?** ”

The material of your too tight blouse falls loose around your breasts with each button you undo, and Credo’s eyes are trained heavily on each new inch of skin your actions reveal. He swallows a lump in his throat. Shifts in his seat.

“No.”

When you lean forward and brush the backs of your fingers over his angled cheek, you see his cheat begin to heave as his breathing quickens. You can’t help but coo softly at the proof of his firm resolve - he’s so desperate for physical attention that that mere gesture alone stole his breath. Oh what a good boy, your Captain is. It’s such a shame that you won’t be giving him what he wants tonight.

“Very good, Captain.” You say as you pull yourself up onto his desk, positioning yourself in front of him. One by one your heeled shoes rise to the arms of his chair, pinning his arms into place, and like this, Credo has a prestigious front row seat to you spreading your legs before him to reveal your bare cunt underneath your skirt. It’s already dripping with your slick, and oh so sensitive to touch when you gingerly run the very tips of your fingers down the length of your slit. “But remember, no touching. You keep your hands _exactly_ where they are.”

Credo gulps again, audibly this time as you spread yourself open with your fingers with a soft moan, showing him just how pretty and pink and wet your most intimate area is.

When he’d asked you to show him how to pleasure you, he wasn’t really expecting this.


	32. Selfish (Vergil x Reader Slight NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Hello, I hope you are well. Can we have n° 100 with Vergil? Last time you did promts I wanted to ask for one but I thought "someone else is gonna ask for this especific one with this character" and then you had to close the requests cause you were writing pact so I WILL NOT MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE TWICE I LOVE YOUR WRITING MUCH LOVE SUCH APPRECIATION Now back to murmuring shhh

## “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

Vergil has always been rather protective of you. You can’t say that it surprises you, or that you don’t understand - his solitary life aside, back when he _did_ have the company, a vast majority of his belongings were usurped by Dante. The only thing you can say you are surprised about is that he hasn’t plastered his name on you anywhere yet. That label maker he received as a gag gift from his brother for this exact reason remains to be used.

But for all intents and purposes, you may as well be walking around with a “PROPERTY OF VERGIL” sticker on your ass, because he had successfully fielded every unsolicited attempt to touch you over the course of the night, to the point where all he had to do to deter unwanted advances was _be there_.

You’ve ushered him into a private little booth, away from the crowd, and drawn the heavy velvet curtain closed. It’s not the most secure barrier from the party happening just beyond, but it muffles the sights and sounds of the idle chatter from outside. And most importantly, it keeps Vergil right where you want him.

You grab two handfuls of your dress to hike it up around your thighs, freeing your legs so that you can easily straddle his thighs between your own.

“And what, pray tell, have you been so grumpy about all night?” You already know the answer to your question, but you want to hear it directly from him.

Vergil plays along, his hands smoothing up your thighs and playing with the lacy hem of your stockings. He snaps one of them against your thigh, answering your question smoothly. “ **Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.** ”

You lean into him, and the scent of your perfume overpowers his senses, outwardly manifesting with two handfuls of your ass which he kneads gently. The pressure, the weight of his hands forces you up against the bulge that’s growing in the front of his pants.

“My, that’s sweet.” Shifting ever closer, your lips graze his as you whisper. “Maybe if you make a mess of me, I’ll be too filthy for them to want to touch.”

Something in his eyes flares, reflecting the soft orange glow that bathes the room in its warmth, and one corner of his lips twitches upwards into a sly smile. One of his hands slips from your ass, and down into the gap between your thighs, applying pressure to your heated core.

“Mm, perhaps I will.”


	33. Front Row Seat (Credo x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Third time is the charm. “Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.” for Credo/Reader, with Reader saying the lines. Because you like some sub Credo, don't cha ;)
> 
> Consider this a direct continuation of chapter 31. 👀

## “Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.”

You give your glistening slit one final stroke before you lift your own fingers away, putting on a show of clenching your thighs as you do - you know Credo loves seeing you squirm - and adjusting your weight, you lean forward towards him with the same hand. Your thumb grazes his lips, gently coaxing them apart with a broad swipe and a lazy smile.

“Why don’t you **suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me** , baby.” You purr, feeling him groan when you slip two of them into his open mouth.

Ever an obedient boy, he seals his lips around them shortly after, and you feel his tongue, rough, hot and wet, begin to glide over your fingers, gently coaxing them apart to lavish them individually. He doesn’t dare to break eye contact with you the entire time, but with the way his eyelids flicker and flutter, the way his cheeks glow with a dusting of red, you know he really, really wants to, and you have to bite down hard on your lower lip to suppress a moan when saliva begins to seep past his lips and roll down his chin.

You hum, half in delight, half in approval when he opens his mouth again and relinquishes your fingers, now excessively lubricated, back to you. Giving his tongue a gentle caress, you pull them from his mouth and lean back, to resume your original position on his desk; casual and spread wide for him, bringing your drool-coated fingers back to your cunt.

“Now watch carefully, baby.”

They push inside of you easily with a hearty, wet squelch and you can’t help but arch into your fingers, your head rolling back to release a shuddering gasp towards the ceiling at how hot your own fingers feel inside of you. It tapers off into another breathy laugh, and you level your gaze back to his.

“Make sure you pay attention. I’m going to test you on all of this later.”


	34. 9mm (Credo x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> with credo 👉👈 🥺please?

## “If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

To say that the vast majority of Fortuna respects Credo would be a severe understatement. There are many within your squad of new recruits that joined with the hopes of being the next up and coming star - to be just as strong and revered. You however, are a little bit different. If anybody asked you, the reply is always because you “have Fortuna’s best interests in your heart”. The reality is much simpler than that:

You’d like Fortuna’s best sheathed to the hilt inside your wet cunt.

You play it a little more lowkey than the crooning, swooning legion of his fans. A little more subtle. If the grinding of your ass against his crotch when he comes to adjust your stance, or the brief little flicks of your tongue tracing your lips, or the sheer level of eye fucking you do can be called subtle. At least you’re not loud about it, right?

Daily training became something of a game after a while for the both of you; your advances crumbling some of that high and mighty discipline he’s constantly oozing in slips of his hand on your body, and the feel of his hard chest against your back. In all honesty, you didn’t think he would take the bait… rise up to the challenge. Until you were summoned to his office one morning, and like a predator, he advanced on you.

His voice hung low, somewhat dry and airy in your ear, as he leaned in close enough to you for you to smell his musk. “ **If you’re going to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.** ”

Now you’re standing among your peers during training with a bullet vibrator pressed into your dripping cunt, left to fend off the buzzing that’s leaving a warm, sticky mess inside your panties on your own. Every now and then Credo comes by to comment on your poor concentration, and every time he does, the tiny little toy begins to drone more intensely until your legs are shaking, and your breaths come out in choppy puffs. You stab the tip of your training sword into the ground and double over to lean your weight onto it, if only to keep your knees from giving out on you.

A shadow looms over you, and you hear Credo’s voice, vaguely mocking. It almost makes you cum then and there.

“Pathetic,” he announces, “see me afterwards. Your pitiful behaviour needs correcting.”


	35. Please Call Again (Dante x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> 22 for Dante?? 👀👀👀

## “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

Though normally very attentive to your needs, the recent slew of jobs, particularly in relation to the clean up of one(1) upset demon tree, meant Dante was in and out of the office at frequent intervals. Whenever he actually had five minutes to himself, he’d barely be situated in his seat before the phone would ring again. You’re happy for him; he hasn’t been this active in such a long time, but his repeated absences have admittedly left you lonely, especially when he embarks on those overnight jobs. You miss his warmth. The feel of his body behind you. In front of you. Under you. Rough hands that wander and roam, tracing meaningless patterns into your skin. Toys just don’t cut it anymore, not ever since you started dating Dante.

Your boyfriend is well aware of this, heaving resigned sighs every time the phone rings because is he not allowed like fifteen minutes alone with you?!

Though today, he thinks even fifteen minutes would be too generous, because you’re already a heaving, writhing mess when he’s barely middle knuckle deep into your pulsing cunt.

He grins up at you, “ **Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.** ”

You have one leg hooked over his shoulder, the other being held open by a strong, insistent hand on your thigh while the other busies itself with gathering as much of your slick onto his fingers as he can. He’s always been incredibly talented in pulling blissed cries from you with nothing but his equally talented hands, but in his prolonged absence from your heated body, you’re dragged before a looming precipice, an orgasm so intense that you’re _already_ experiencing vertigo, far too soon.

“Stob… deasing…” You only barely manage to slur a sentence together before you’re silenced by a kiss that’s just as needy as the sounds that erupt from the base of your throat. His tongue pushes past your lips the same moment he slips another finger inside you, an orchestrated move to work you open and split you at the seams. Your body both welcomes and rejects the notion, clenching down around his fingers in protest, in defiance, while you whine pathetically into his mouth.

His hand finds a slow pace inside you, working that soft, wet velvet with knowing strokes, and that sense of vertigo comes crashing down upon you once more–

Until the fucking phone rings.

Dante breaks the kiss first with a frustrated groan - you’re much too far gone to be thinking about anything other than his fingers inside you - and stares at the opposite end of his desk where the dusty vintage phone sits. It’s probably another job, and for all of three seconds, he deliberates on answering it. Which is more important to him at the moment? A job, or the way your tight hole is squeezing down around his fingers? Does he want to see another horde of Empusa, or would he prefer the sight of you sprawled over his desk?

There’s just no competition here.

With a succinct _thunk_ of a red phantom sword into the thick wood of his desk, he slices the phone’s cable clean off before he returns his attention to you.


	36. Your Share (Vergil x Reader Slight NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> I don’t know if I am late or not, but could I ask for prompt number 1 with Vergil please?🙇🏻♀️

## “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

The mirror is still foggy from the hot spray of the shower. Even when you lean forward to wipe it away with your hand, it begins to fog over again almost immediately. But though blurry and indistinct, you can still easily make out the myriad of marks and darkened patches of skin on your body. They’re everywhere; down your arms, tucked into the base of your neck, your thighs, you even recall Vergil biting down on your shoulder blade at one point through your session of love making, all left behind by an eager mouth of teeth.

You click your tongue at your own reflection, fingers idly skimming over one particularly deep ring of teeth marks, already beginning to turn purple, particularly around the canines.

“ **You know** ,” Vergil pipes up from behind you, “ **you always look so much better when I mark you up.** ”

“Kind of wish you’d reign it in sometimes though. I get a lot of looks.”

His arms circle your waist, both of your skin still damp in the humidity of your bathroom, and you feel him press his lips into your shoulder. Just his lips this time.

“And if I said I was doing this on your behalf also? You cannot mark me, so I’m simply… taking your share and returning it to you.”

Your response is to playfully jerk your hips backwards, nudging him back an entire half a step. Oh, the humanity!

“If only you were this generous all the time.”


	37. Bratty (Vergil x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Have you ever thought of femdom? Maybe 8 with sub!Vergil?

## “If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”

Being a hybrid of immense strength, Vergil is well within his rights to brush off any and all threats you direct towards him. What fear could a mere human possibly instil in him, after all? You are weaker than he is (in all possible ways save for heart), and there is no form of control you could possibly exert on him that he couldn’t simply break free of with a simple flex of his arms.

But when you secure the silk ropes around his body, not too tight that they’re actually constricting, but not so loose that they slip from him either, he finds that the definition of control is extremely loose, and up to interpretation. Control doesn’t have to be physical. Control can also mean trust.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t cause trouble for you every step of the way; deliberately knocking the riding crop from your hands with a smirk; “accidentally” slipping free of his bonds while you were still trying to find that balance between too loose and too tight… Until you decided you’d hand enough.

“ **If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.** ”

His sword, his esteemed Yamato, is lined up with his spine, secured in place by strategically placed knots to keep his back straight while he kneels before you. That riding crop that he’d spent the better part of this prep finding new and inventive ways to stall and falter (sometimes he managed to actually bite down on it whenever you’d caress his jaw with it), now slides from one pert nipple to the other as you circle around him. He watches you as you go, his eyes still glowing with a will to fight, as your heels, a shimmering latex concoction, click mutely on the carpet. It then whips through the air to land on his thigh with a snap, leaving an immediate welt in his skin that takes mere seconds to fade away.

You frown. “That’s troublesome.” The tip of the riding crop slips from his thigh, following the length of his hard cock, also adorned in silk, gathering a string of precum that you then drag up his torso until it rests just under his chin. This, you forcibly tilt upwards until he’s looking at you, and your nose scrunches in something like enmity. “No matter. I have the whole night to wear you down.”

Vergil only smiles. “We’ll see.”


	38. Secrets (Credo x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Sync... Number 10 with credo saying that line 🍆
> 
> I did alter the line a little though, just so it would fit his personality a little more, so I hope that’s okay!!

## “Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.”

There are things about Credo you’d never have been able to guess in a million years; that he has a green thumb, that he loves to cook, that he can cook _really well_ , and that he _absolutely loves_ relinquishing control to you, and only you. You only found out about this little secret of his when you wrangled him back into his chair after he’d insisted on attending a last minute meeting, and you found a rather telling tent form in his pants when you forced him to sit back down. And ever since then, sex has been so much more fulfilling for the both of you.

He loves being ridden, leaving the pace and intensity purely at your discretion while all he can do is watch, because you’ve secured his hands to the headboard of your bed with his belt. Your fingers are spread wide over his pecs, pressing into the middle of his chest to provide more leverage while your hips slowly roll in hypnotic waves. They slip further and further up as the seconds pass though, the sweat that dots his skin providing a slick track for your hands to glide over, until they slowly, gradually, reach the base of his throat.

The pressure makes Credo shudder beneath you, releasing a breathy groan just under his breath as he feels the barest of weight on his airways. It’s enough of a foreign to you that your hips still, and you peek up at your lover from beneath thick lashes. Your eyes flicker from his face, somehow bearing a distant quality, down to the press of your hands at his neck, and you tilt your head at him with a curious smile. You hear the buckle of his belt clink against the steel bars they’re wound around when he flexes his hands.

“ **I wouldn’t be averse to you gripping my throat, if that’s what you were wondering.** ”

You hum in thought before letting both of your hands slide up to wrap around his neck experimentally, feeling the cords in his neck tense. And when you squeeze down lightly, his hips jerk upwards into you, cock twitching as he rasps out another groan.

This is just one more secret to add to the list.


	39. Magic Wand III (Vergil x Reader NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Number 9 sounds like what Vergil would say 👀👀 Can you do it? If you do, thanks ☺️❤️ Love your writings btw 🥰
> 
> Hoo, and that's it for this very delayed batch. I actually did all of these around the beginning of May? 🤣 Just never got around to posting them until now. I doubt I'll be doing prompts like this for a while to come, since I have a bunch of other things to do, so I hope you enjoyed!!

## “I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”

At first, you thought that introducing Vergil to your array of toys would be detrimental to your relationship; the man has a very intense competitive streak, and the thought of you finding pleasure in things that are not his mouth, fingers or cock stoke at the flames of jealousy.

But instead, you were met with a rather thoughtful look when you showed him your little box of wonders. He took the time to sift through everything, feeling their weight and thickness in his hands (and probably mentally comparing them to himself), but it was your array of vibrators that caught his interest the most, and when he held the most well used one in his hands, your beloved hitachi, and glanced back over at you with a coy smile, only then did you realise your mistake.

“ **I don’t care how good it feels, you’d better not cum until I tell you to.** ”

The cumbersome device is being pressed against your swollen clit with one hand, while the other is busy with prying you open with his long fingers, the sound of your wet folds taking precedent even over the persistent buzz of the wand that Vergil is taking great care to keep in place. He watches your back arch right off the bed when he finds that spongy little spot inside of you, your mouth parting in a silent scream as you clutch at your bed sheets.

He’s actually rather impressed when he hears them rip.

“Not yet.” He chides, eyes returning to the sloppy mess between your legs, zeroing in on the way he can visibly see your sweet little cunt clench around his probing fingers. Vergil adjusts the position of the wand, lifting it just a touch higher against your leaking slit, as if he intuitively knows when you’re beginning to grow numb to the overwhelming buzz. Another delightful tear of fabric graces his ears, accompanied by the sound of his name being pitifully whined; a surprisingly pleasant duet.

“Not yet.” He reminds you.

The bastard doesn’t say anything else for another hour.


	40. Never Leave (Vergil x Reader SFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> 18 with Vergil/reader for the prompts? 🥺🙏 Thank you and bless you if you write this 💕

## “Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

Whether it’s out of pity or courtesy, Vergil’s past isn’t a topic that gets brought up often. It’s simply too tragic, too lonely, too oppressive a story for you to ask about out of the blue. Even though you already know how it goes, from bits and pieces that you connected yourself from passing conversations and long silences dense with subtext, no matter how you slice it, it simply isn’t something you have the right to demand that he tell you.

But if you know Vergil - and you do - then you know he will tell you when he feels the time is right. On his own terms, and in a place where he is most comfortable.

However long it takes for him, you will wait for him to tell you in his own words.

As it turns out, that time is now, lying in bed together within each other’s embrace. The moon shines its silver light through an open window, letting in the autumn chill, and letting _out_ the remnants of the past hour’s passions. It was a slow affair, soft and gentle and reaffirming of a love so true, you swear you caught a hint of a wet sheen over his eyes he thought he’d blinked away in time. His heart beats softly in your ear, in a gentle rhythm that would otherwise lull you into a peaceful rest had he not shyly asked if he could tell you a story.

The story was a long one, sometimes disjointed, and often trailing off into a thoughtful silence, as if the scars were still as raw as the day they were carved into him; it had started with a young boy, lost and struggling, and ended with a man, not quite found and struggling still. It covered a lifetime of events; an abandoned childhood; a long fall into darkness; a suit of armour; mindless servitude and forced obedience. But at every beat, you listened. At every lapse into a hesitant silence, you pressed your lips into his warm skin, and told him those days were over.

Vergil draws in one long breath, feeling lighter, yet somehow also wistful as he bids a final farewell to broken shackles. And then he waits for your response. Aside from your quiet whispers of encouragement, you’d refrained from commenting on his long tale, and now that all is said and done, Vergil realises it wasn’t the act of telling you itself that he was afraid of - it’s your reaction to it that he fears the most.

What if, after everything he’s done, you come to resent him?

What if, even worse, you pity him?

Vergil clenches his jaw, when you rise up above him, propping yourself up on your arms. He can see with perfect clarity amidst the dark curtain of night, the pensive look upon your face, the turmoil that churns within your eyes, and though he longs to look away from your silent accusations, he holds fast.

Because the thought of disappointing you weighs heavier than his own apprehensions.

“I know this wasn’t easy for you, Vergil, so I want to thank you for telling me. You made mistakes in your past, held on to ambitions you didn’t fully understand the meaning of, and the path you took towards those ambitions were paved in blood.” Your expression softens then, melting back into a familiar warmth. “But we accept you. _I_ accept you. Because you’re doing the best you can to make amends and move forward. You’ve patched things up with your brother. You spend every other weekend in Fortuna getting to know Nero better. You studied property law in a dusty library for _weeks_ to regain legal ownership of the old Sparda manor. And then you refurbished it into an orphanage. You’ve come so far, Vergil Sparda, from the lost little boy who struggled, and I’m so proud of you.” You lean down on your elbows, tilt your head up to press a kiss to his temple, feeling his arms slide around your waist, beneath sheets that are only just now beginning to air dry.

“But I have one concern.”

Vergil utters an acknowledging hum, urging you to continue.

“Back when you were young. When you were in Fortuna…” you begin, voice quiet, yet firm, “after that woman… Nero’s mother… You left, right? Just disappeared from her life forever without a word.” With your forehead pressed to his, you stare into his eyes, equal parts worried and afraid. All things that are present on his face too. And holding his breath, he waits for you to continue.

“ **Swear to me you’ll never leave** me.”

Beneath you, his body relaxes, the harsh tension in his arms and legs and expression dissolving into his gentle placid. And then it’s his to lean up to you to capture your lips in a brief kiss.

“I swear.”

He pulls you back down into his embrace, and as you settle, he adds as a playful afterthought:

“Even if I did, I feel you would rend the very earth to find me.”

Nuzzling into his chest, you smile. “And you’d be right.”


	41. Honest Opinions (Dante & Vergil Familial)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> Ooooh~ How about.... 1 with Dante and Vergil (Dante being hit ofc), 5. With Dante babysitting a 1 year old baby Nero, 12. With Dante saying it to Vergil, and 18. With a deaf and mute reader with Vergil, and they're both saying this to each other (Sorry if this is too many 😶😣😓

## “ _Ow_ –what?! You said you wanted my honest opinion!”

“Dante, come here.” Vergil’s voice ringing from the kitchen, in that deadpan tone of his, throws the younger twin back to simpler days, more _painful_ days. Vergil used to do exactly this - innocently beckon Dante toward him - before striking him for absolutely no reason. But now in their forties, the twins have all but mellowed with age, settling into a more mature routine fitting of adults.

Vergil now only hits Dante if the latter has done something utterly stupid.

Which he hasn’t.

And yet, Dante finds himself cautiously peeking through the doorway anyway, poking his head out from behind the doorjamb like a child trying to catch a glimpse of Santa on Christmas Eve.

“Why?” Dante finds himself asking, squinting at the pot that his brother is taking great care to stir gently.

“ _Just come here_.”

Oh _hell_ no. That’s _exactly_ what he used to say when they were kids too. And then BAM! Suckerpunched for no reason other than they are siblings, and that is what siblings do. Dante shrinks further behind the wall.

“Hell no. I’ve wisened up to your shit, Vergil, you’re not gonna get me again.”

Vergil groans, hiding the tired roll of his eyes with a turn of his head. “If you don’t get over here, I _will_ hit you.” A beat. “I need you to try this.”

“Try _what_.” It speaks to how food motivated Dante is when all it takes to abate some of his worries, to coax him out from his poor attempt at hiding, is to be a taste tester.

“This.” Vergil lifts the wooden spoon to show Dante the pots contents. It’s a reddish brown liquid, rather thick in consistency, with unidentifiable lumps throughout.

Dante sniffs at the air, trying to discern even one of the ingredients in that pot, but all he can pick up is spice. Enough to burns his nostrils. How is Vergil standing so close to it and not suffocating? “What the hell is it?”

“Dinner.”

“No, I know that, but what _is_ it?”

“I don’t know.” Vergil replies plainly.

“…the hell d’you mean ‘you don’t know’? You cooked it!”

‘Cooked’ is a severe understatement when all Vergil did was throw whatever they had on hand into the pot. He’ll be lucky if it’s even edible. Hence why he’s asking Dante to be the guinea pig.

Doesn’t mean he can’t be petty and defensive about it though. It’s his duty as the older twin.

“ _Perhaps_ ,” Vergil grinds out between his teeth, rapping the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot once, “I’d be able to make something discernible if _you_ kept the kitchen stocked with recognisable items. Now try this and tell me what you think.”

When all Dante does is narrow his eyes into a suspicious squint, as if Vergil is planning on dunking his face into the pot at the last second, he sighs, mutters something like “ridiculous” under his breath, and steps away from the stove. Though when Dante leans over the stove to tentatively lift a spoonful of the questionable slop up to his mouth, the urge to do precisely that is strong. 

The sound of Dante smacking his lips as he samples the… interesting flavours fills the kitchen, and Vergil finds he’s actually rather nervous about the outcome.

“It tastes like salty garbage.” he finally announces, far too casual for having spooned what could double as a floor cleaner into his mouth - his tongue feels like it’s been physically stripped of its tastebuds. Vergil’s reaction to the harsh criticism is immediate; one swift and hard punch into Dante’s left kidney, forcing the younger twin to lurch forward and grip the bench for support.

He lets out a wheeze that’s only half exaggerated. **“ _Ow_ – what?! You said you wanted my honest opinion!”**

Shaking out the offending fist, Vergil answers without missing a beat. “That isn’t why I hit you.”

That’s a load of bullshit, Dante thinks, but he’ll take the bait. “Why then?”

“Because you apparently know what salty garbage tastes like.”

“So you take out one of my kidneys?”

Vergil merely shrugs, nonchalant.  
  


* * *

## “Be stupid while you still can. Growing up sucks, trust me.”

Missing major milestones in life is hard.

Being forced to experience them early is harder.

Dante has learned this the hard way.

It isn’t that he _hates_ Vergil, or that he _hates_ the fact that he’d shown up at the office’s front stoop out of the blue with a whole goddamn _baby_ in tow, or even that he _hates_ having to look after someone other than himself now. It’s that he doesn’t feel he… or perhaps _either_ of them are ready to look after a child. Their own childhoods were abandoned early in the interest of their respective survival, and now they have to forsake some of the best years of their early adult life too?! Talk about a major boner killer.

~~Though Dante has to admit that Nero’s a huge chick magnet.~~

“ **Be stupid while you still can, kid.** ” Dante grumbles to the child in his arms. He holds his nephew at arm’s length, posture only mildly admonishing. “ **Because growing up sucks, trust me.** You get bills. You pay taxes. And your brother shows up out of the blue to rain on your parade with a chubby kid who drools over all your stuff.”

Where Dante is expecting a summoned sword, as blue as Vergil’s coat, to appear in his chest, there is instead a peaceful silence. A sidelong glance from out the corner of his eye at his brother confirms that Vergil is still reading in silence on the other side of the office, almost as if he hadn’t heard the exchange.

Odd, when he normally hears every damn thing that goes on in the building. A pin could drop, and Vergil would know.

“There’s no more wild parties either,” Dante continues, “no more getting plastered every other weekend, no more having hot babes over, no more–” his list is cut off when the flat plane of a book thumps him over the top of his head, and in his periphery, Dante notices the brilliant blue of his brother’s gaudy coat. “–ow.”

“Do not assume my son will turn into _you_.” Vergil chides.

“…wow, so _that’s_ where you’re chiming in, huh?”


	42. Life's Challenges ((V)ergil x Reader SFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> 10 because im a sucker for this kind of prompt and as usual Vergil x f!reader (Also big confetti to u sync!!!)

## “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, don’t you understand that? How could you possibly think you don’t matter to me?”

You never thought your life could get any stranger than when a chilling tree burst forth from beneath your city, bringing with it a wave of creatures you thought only ever existed in made up stories.

You never thought your life could get any stranger than when you stumbled across a young man dressed in all black among flames of chaos. He was covered in tattoos, could summon creatures at his will, and bore the kind of wisdom one gains through experience as opposed to the sort found in books.

You never thought your life could get any stranger, but life clearly saw that as a challenge.

It’s bizarre to you that you know, but at the same time, absolutely _do not_ know the man that V became. No, that isn’t quite right - the man that V always _was_.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Vergil directs his gaze elsewhere, as if the question burns him. When usually so steadfast and unwavering, you think it actually may have.

“What could I have said to make it easier?” His reply is rhetorical, and you both know it. There’s no real answer, no arrangement of words, no matter how carefully chosen, that would have softened the blow. You’re simply lashing out, and you both know that too.

“Anything. You could have said anything!” You pause for breath, reeling some of that anguish back in. Enough that when you speak next, all Vergil hears in your voice is disappointment.

That may very well be worse than the hurt.

“I thought that… maybe I mattered to you…”

He looks down at your hands, balled into fists at your side, and you’re so close that all he needs to do is reach out and take your hand in his to physically bridge the gap, but he knows better than that.

Because you taught him all about that, didn’t you?

“Everything I hold in me now, all of these memories… **I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.** ” He doesn’t mean that in the literal, physical sense, but in all of those moments between evacuations and ambushes. Those quiet hours just before dawn where the sky on the very edge of the horizon would dust over with a soft orange, spent exchanging stories and experiences. “ **How could you possibly believe you don’t matter to me?** ”

Seconds tick by in silence. Vergil watches you stare at the floor, not moving, not pressing, resisting the urge to reach for you.

And just when he’d given up hope, he feels your fingers so shyly, so delicately seeking out his. Nervous little exploratory motions that he lets you work through with the barest of smiles pulling at his lips; the only time the word ‘weak’ will ever be associated with him again.

Life may have challenged your assumptions, but you were always taught to step up to meet them.


	43. Perfection (Credo x Reader SFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The ask:**
>
>> So #6 from promts with Credo and reader. I mean its literally what he need to hear🥺

## “Of course you’re not perfect. No one expects you to be.”

With so much to do, and so little help, late nights are frequent occurrences for a man with so much weight upon his shoulders. Night after night, you ease a litany stiff tensions out of Credo's back, but day after day, he turns with more. The newest batch of recruits are too young and are falling too far from the Saviour’s guidance, Agnus is a constant thorn in his side who challenges him every step of the way, and Nero grows more stubborn as the years pass. All of this culminates in stressful days and long nights.

Tonight he pores over maps and military strategies pilfered from the mainland, arranging contingencies in the event of demonic breaches; an inevitable occurrence so long as Fortuna is built upon a hellgate. The aim is to be easily understood, to minimize damage, casualties and chaos amongst not only those under his command, but of the citizens too. But strategic planning and proper formation were things his father was still in the process of teaching him before he died alongside his loving wife; lessons that were cut short and never to be finished.

Maybe that’s why Credo doesn’t like it.

“These are fine,” you offer quietly from your perch against his desk, casting a sidelong glance at the scrunched up papers that litter the floor all around you. Credo’s office at HQ is always pristine. Clinical, even, with not even one folder out of place. But here in your shared home, strands of that tightly wound professionalism fall loose, as if waiting your guiding hand to tuck them back into place. Credo rubs at his temple, pinches the bridge of his nose to curb an oncoming migraine. These are becoming more frequent too. When was the last time he properly slept? He can’t remember. He can’t even remember what His Holiness had asked of him only this afternoon.

What good is he as Supreme General, then?

Why does he even bother?

None of this is ideal.

He’s so tired.

“No,” he answers, “they are flawed. The flanks are vulnerable. Forces are spread too thin across the city. There is too much area to cover with too few knights. We need more safe houses. We need more officers. We cannot assume every citizen will remain levelheaded in the event of…”

He trails off when he feels your hand upon his, slipping underneath to entwine your fingers with his. The weight of your hand naturally pulls his away from his face, providing you with an opening to press your forehead into his. You hear him release a quiet breath as his eyes slide closed. Just that alone serves to soothe him.

“Of course it’s flawed. Perfection is an unattainable notion that doesn’t exist in a world like ours, and striving for it as you do is meaningless.” You squeeze his hand, thumb rubbing in gentle motions as if that will further drive your words home. “ **You’re not perfect, Credo, but nobody on this island is expecting you to be**. You’re doing what you can, and nobody can ask for more of you.”

You feel him lean into your touch, press more of his weight into you, and then he folds you into his arms, pulling you down into his chair. It creaks and sways as you situate yourself in his lap, not nearly large enough to support the both of you (not like the one in his office at HQ), but you make it work. When the creaking stops, you’re pressed tightly against him, so close that you can feel his heart beating its gentle rhythm against yours. His face automatically finds the crook of your neck where he breathes you in until the restless waves that churn in his mind fall still.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder that if you'd like, you can follow me on tumblr **[right here!!](https://synchronmurmurs.tumblr.com/)**


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